Giving students a jump-start to their career, college programs provide many aspiring creatives an opportunity to get some real-life experience through an ad agency internship. This is when young creatives learn fast that working in the biz is nothing like the textbook or bubble test said. It's actually much more interesting and fun. But knowing what it takes to make the leap from unpaid (or poorly paid) volunteer to a junior level employee who earns a paycheck starts by knowing what to soak up during that two-three month adventure.

Here are the seven things I think are most important for interns learn:

1. If You Don't Ask, No One Will Help You. 
Not the last thing a creative will do, but low on the list is checking on an intern. Many professional creatives are wrapped up in their own world of "make the logo bigger" crises. Don't be afraid to bug someone or ask them to get coffee, lunch or an after-work beer just to talk shop. They'll probably welcome the break. The result is that creative pro will label you as a driven individual. Should a higher-up ask about you, he/she will now have something positive to say. During your chat, put your ideas on the chopping block, ask "why" and milk his or her mind for all it's worth.

2. Go To Meetings That Have Nothing To Do With You.
Meetings ... boring, yes. Valuable for an intern, definitely. You'll pick up lingo and understand the DNA of the agency. You'll also discover why certain people are stressed and why so many agency workers drink moderate to heavily. There will be presentation documents, creative briefs, short brainstorms and client feedback. These are all things you'll never see in a classroom setting.

3. Your A+ Thesis Paper Has Nothing To Do With Creative Copywriting.
My first creative director told me: "Clients don't pay you to write or for me to design. They pay us for our minds." It's true. Think about it this way: everyone thinks they can write and/or design (until they actually have to). But thinking creatively on a highly strategic level is a skill few possess. It's what separates us from our clients and their brand team - we are their brand's thought leaders. It's not about writing a clever headline with a pretty photo, rather it's about writing a clever headline and designing an ad that meets six brand objectives while still clearly communicating to a human being. Forget writing essays and designing your cousin's band poster, the creative side of the biz is based on intelligently communicating with people in creative ways. Learn that or at least show a spark, and you'll be valuable.

4. Jump In On A Pitch.
Many ad students get to participate in the AAF competition through "Campaigns" class. They have four months to come up with a large creative presentation for a national client, where they'll compete against other college student teams. In the agency world, that same process happens in about 10-14 days (sometimes less) instead of 120 days. You're guaranteed to hear the word "RFP" (request for proposal) while interning. When you do, do what you can to get involved. Even if it's just gathering photos, proofing or binding. Pay attention to how the team brainstorms. Study how the copywriter writes up the ideas to be sold. How the art directors design comps to communicate the idea. Figure out why the creative director and account director wanted it in certain order. It may not be a flawless process and final product. But this is your chance to finally see how the sausage is made. "Just Do It" wasn't sold as just a clever line - the agency went through a pitch process, creating a strategic deck book that made the idea of that famous line shine.

5. Keep Building Your Book, Even If It's Not "Real" Work.
In some situations, it can be difficult as an intern to truly own a project. If you have that chance, save every PDF and file, and make it the showpiece of your book. Unfortunately for many, you'll dabble here and there, but may feel uncomfortable claiming a finished piece as your own. Don't let that stop you -- now that you understand a brand better than ever, go ahead and design your own campaign. Show what you can do with total creative control. Have a reason for everything you do and say in the campaign. In your upcoming interviews, creative directors are going to be looking to see that you can think and execute creatively and strategically. The ad doesn't have to be printed in Time Magazine. Good creative is good creative.

6. Be Digital Or Be Left Behind.
You know the vehicles: Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn. Now get active and learn everything you can about them. Pay attention to what brands and marketers are doing with them. Connect with others in the industry through it. Know how to talk about social media in simple terms. Need practice? Try explaining Twitter to your grandparents or crazy uncle. While interning, ask if you can participate in speaking for the agency through their social media channels. Contribute to the agency blog. Be seen, be heard and know what you're talking about.

7. Be A Writer Or Designer. Never Both.
If you say you can do it all, no one will believe you. If you really can excel at both writing and designing, more power to you. But for most, it's crucial to pick one path and become as great as you can be at it. Creative directors and agency heads want to know that you're "our writer guy" or "our design gal." Don't get me wrong, having cross-over skills is great -- just don't sell yourself as such. At least until you reach the level of Creative Director.

With the ultimate goal is landing that first job shortly after the internship, remember the process is all about luck, timing, skills, your book, drive, resiliency and intangibles... plus a bunch of other things.

Good luck and let me know what you think. Like the Dude says, everything in this post is just, like my opinion, man.

---

Eammon is a copywriter who's worked over eleven years in the ad agency business. He's won a few ADDYs, judged a few shows and worked on a variety of national clients. Find out all about him on his LinkedIn profile and feel free to follow him on Twitter.

Linkedin link:
http://www.linkedin.com/in/eammonazizi

Twitter link:
www.twitter.com/eammon

"Let each man exercise the art he knows.” - Aristophanes

A few months ago, I found myself having coffee at Shade of Brown. Nothing unusual. This fair local coffee shop receives a generous share of my disposable income. I go there often to work on homework, to complete paperwork for my day job, to smoke cigarettes out front with friends, and to write poetry. This particular afternoon was filled with the least glorious, most mind-numbing task—paperwork. I sat there typing case note after case note wishing I'd ordered extra espresso in my latte when a man I didn't recall ever meeting pulled up a chair next to me. “I'm sorry to bother you,” he began. “No bother,” I mumbled, thankful for any distraction. He continued, “You're that guy who writes poetry, right?” I admitted to being “that guy,” and we talked. It would be more accurate to say he talked. For the next half hour or so, he told me what my poetry meant to him, how it had affected him. I could easily fill a few pages describing the torrent of emotions unleashed by being approached by a fan, a real live fan! But The Tulsa Egoist asked me to write about what I learned this year. Of the many things I learned in 2011, this anecdote highlights one. Even though I'm not (yet) Poet Laureate or featured in The New Yorker, my poetry matters.

2011 was a transitional year for me. I've called myself a poet for a long time, probably since high school, when that just meant scribbling lines about girlfriends and bullies. Most of what I wrote back then was the sort of self-indulgent emo shit that makes people cringe when they hear it at open mic night. At some point my poetry changed, I changed, and I started writing serious poetry. These poems accumulated in notebooks, without audience, until a couple years ago when a friend pushed me to start sharing. I started by reading to close friends then moved on to occasional open mic readings. In December 2010, I gave my first full-length feature reading, which propelled me into 2011, the year when I became (or started to become) the title, poet, that I had so often claimed. In April, I started organizing and hosting a monthly poetry event called Third Thursday Poetry Night, which features full-length readings by two poets (Sometimes I read. Other times, I just host). My first publication came in September, when my poem “Honor” found itself in a small magazine call NAP.

But readings and publication aren't the things that make me say my poetry matters. Those are merely means to reach an audience. That audience reminds me that it matters when I'm approached randomly like the Shades incident above, when they comment on works I share on my blog, when they talk to me after a reading about which poems or stanzas or lines struck them. At one particular reading, I shared a poem called “Missing Lucy,” which I wrote when my great-grandmother passed away. Afterwards, someone approached me in tears to tell me how the poem made her think about her recently deceased father and how encouraged she was. It's this, not publication or awards, as nice as those are, that show how important art is.

I don't share these stories to gloat about having fans (not that poetry is really very popular anyway). I share these stories and a brief glimpse at my becoming a poet to remind you that art matters. My poetry matters. So does your photography or painting or sculpture or music. Whatever form your art takes, it matters. That, friends, is what I learned this year. If you've been holding back, let 2012 be the year that you put yourself out there. I can't promise you a record deal or a shoot for National Geographic, but I assure you that someone, even it it's only one person, will see or hear what you've done and be forever changed by it. To me, that is what art is all about.

At the end of 2011, I feel like I've only just begun.

Keep in mind: I am a self-taught freelance photographer. I dropped out of Tulsa Community College during what I have come to call my "freshman semester." I wanted to pursue a career in narrative filmmaking; but after high school, I found myself burnt out and more than a little uninspired. I bought a Nikon 35mm camera and a small handful of prime lenses to keep my eye constantly engaged with the world around me, hoping that I'd eventually pull myself out of my slump and become an ambitious filmmaker again. That was six years ago. After I picked up my first roll of film from the drug store, I never really looked back. And here I am.

I've had a few lucky breaks in my career so far. Being the first photographer involved with This Land Press was certainly one of my first high-points, following unsatisfying staff gigs with free-press Oklahoma publications. In addition to the editorial work I've done over the years for the publication world, I've developed strong personal relationships with many of America's finest and most talented musicians and have been able to engage them in collaborating with me. I really can't complain. Until I decided to move to New York.

On September 10th (that's not the 11th) of this year, my plane landed at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. It had taken many long months of careful planning and bittersweet farewells, but I was ready.

It happened almost immediately after I landed, though. My romanticized New York began to fall apart around me. Little by little, as the weeks wore on, I found my expectations torn down. It's a rough, dirty, and harsh place - that New York City. Unofficial assignments would fall through and become unpublished (and therefor unpaid). I went through the process of apartment hunting four times through the first two months before becoming a twenty-something cliche and falling into a mold-infested place I shared with five room mates. And as I spent more and more money to live in the greatest city in the world every day, I realized I was somewhere between a rock and a hard place: I couldn't afford to send out my promotional materials to photo editors and agencies, I couldn't afford to have the rest of my gear shipped to me, and I was a little hungry.

Until one day, at my lowest point in New York City, I woke up and pulled myself together. Sure, it's dirty and ugly and rough. It's also beautiful, magical, and challenging. It's exactly what you make of it, and nothing less. It's the American initiator of current events, the constant birth-place of new pop culture, and a place where dreams either go to live or die - depending on what you decide to do. If I clammed up and hesitated and rested when I should be wide awake, all of the effort to be here would be wasted.

In the months that I have spent living in New York, I have learned to continually challenge myself in new ways. Learn new things. Take risks and either let them sink or swim. I have learned how to come out of my shell and approach damn near anyone. I have learned how to appreciate my art and my role in society as an artist and a story teller and all of the responsibilities that come with it.

And as beautiful as New York is, though… it's not Oklahoma.

It wasn't long ago that I decided the best way to live in New York is to not live there all of the damn time. The best thing for my career, and for myself, is to shift my focus away and set up two home bases instead of one. That means opening shop in both New York City… and keeping open my interests in Oklahoma. For while New York challenges you to keep re-inventing the way we see the same streets and the same people and locations every day; Oklahoma invites you to invent what hasn't been seen at all. As one of my colleagues at This Land once pointed out, "The American midwest is a gold-mine of stories waiting to be told, and we're going to be the ones who do it".

It isn't about living in one place or another. It's about being the best damn artist I can be.

And while I've had successes and failures in my six year career as a photographer, I look forward to having more. I look forward to the re-invented sense of self I feel, and the re-juvenations that will certainly follow year after year. I look forward to breaking myself down, and building myself back up. I look forward to the heights and depths that will be found out there in the infinite abyss.

So here's looking at you in 2012.

You're only as good as your last project: Lessons learned from a tech start-up

It’s hard to believe yet another year has soared by.

For JESS3, it’s no question that 2011 has been one of our biggest years yet -- and in so many ways.

In 2011 alone, we’ve seen:
- 114% increase in our revenues
- 59% increase in our team growth
- 142% increase in JESS3.com’s page views

While these kinds of numbers make us proud as a team, we also want to recognize that none of this has come easily. There have certainly been lessons learned through less-than-ideal situations, sobering journeys and even downright failures. Yet through both the good times and the bad, looking back on this year, I can confidently say JESS3 is at its highest peak yet.

Looking over the past 12 months, I've compiled a reflection list: the top 11 lessons learned for 2011.

11. You're only as good as your last project. While I’ve been hearing this from our CEO and founder, Jesse, for years, after launching over 70 projects this year (with just a few more about to launch before New Year’s Eve), I’ve understood it now on more levels than ever before. I’m also excited that this year, we locked in our own 14-step (literally!) launch process for each and every one of our case studies. That puts any 12-step process to shame in my book!

10. Don’t discount puppets. One of my most favorite projects this year was our video for ESPN, where we found a creative way to explain how the TV ratings system actually works. When the client was citing off inspiration, let’s just say they had us at “Sesame Street”...

JESS3 x ESPN - TV Ratings 101 Behind The Scenes from JESS3 on Vimeo.

9. Taking a pulse on projects to watch the bottom line. As I’ve grown into a more operational role this year at JESS3, one of my many missions when working with Leslie, our President and COO, has been to create an easier and more accurate system around tracking our employees’ time. This means keeping a disciplined approach in assigning new billing codes, categorizing our service offerings, keeping employees accountable and monitoring profit margins -- all of which have been incredibly helpful as our company engine roars, with a shift in gears gaining speed from a start-up and accelerating into a small business.

8. Evaluating our clients is just as important as their evaluation of us. Now, this isn’t because we’re an agency with a “too cool for school” attitude -- it’s because we’ve seen what works and what doesn’t work in our client partnerships. To be truly successful, there must be a mutual fit for both sides.

7. Producing is about discouraging creativity. ...To borrow a line directly from Tina Fey and her book, “Bossypants.” (If you haven’t read it yet, stop reading this post immediately and go out and buy the book, it’s too good to be true.) Ultimately, overseeing companywide production means staying constantly vigilant over budgets and timelines, both of which in many ways go against the true creative process. I particularly love this except from Tina, and even though this is written within the context of TV producing, I still find it eerily familiar:

You would think that as a producer, your job would be to churn up creativity, but mostly your job is to police enthusiasm.You may have an occasion where the script calls for a bran muffin on a white plate and the Props Dept. shows up with a bran cake in the shape of Santa Claus sitting on a silver platter that says "Welcome to Denmark." 'We just thought it would be funny.' And you have to find a polite way to explain that the character is Jewish, so her eating Santa's face might have negative connotations, and the silver tray, while beautiful, is giving a weird glare on the camera and maybe let's go with the bran muffin on the white plate.

6. Stay close to the earth. This is a phrase adapted by several JESS3 team members, and it can certainly take on many meanings, depending on context. But when relating to the creative services world, what this broadly means is that despite the role at your company, you have to instill regular checkpoints on all projects. This not only supports your team and increases success rates across the board, but it also keeps you informed for new business opportunities, unexpected client calls and ultimately gives you the knowledge you need in sticky situations. Bottom line -- it’s easy to lose sight of the day-to-day operations when you aren’t on the front lines -- but the potential consequences are simply not worth the thrill that comes with orbiting from above.

5. You have to treat your own brand the way you would a client. Or else, you’ll get so far behind on your own brand, it will become incredibly overwhelming and will give a whole new definition to “playing catch up.” This applies to your own website, your case studies and your social channel management. When it comes to the depth and breadth of your agency’s activity on all the gazillion social channels crawling all over the web, brands themselves have a enough trouble dedicating the time, staff and resources to do it right. Yet, as agencies who are helping to manage the brands -- we have to do this ourselves. How are we to be seen as the experts otherwise?

4. Integration across departments is crucial. We’re really mindful at JESS3 to respect each other and appreciate the value each team brings to the table. Creative swim in their own lanes -- strategy plays in their own sandboxes -- and that’s all good and well … to a certain point. The real power is the point at which all departments overlap and integrate, and it’s within that small nucleus where each department’s value adds come together to make magic. And when you start to break each department up into individuals, and create even more circles, that area for that center intersection point grows even smaller -- but more potent. And it’s in that very cross section where you will find the heart and soul of JESS3.

3. Scaling yourself is hard, but worth it. It’s become increasingly evident to me how unwilling employers are to train their new hires and recruits, and more so it’s become clear why -- it’s difficult, it takes time to prepare for, as well as implement and it is slow-going. However, what I’ve also come to realize is how necessary this first step is upon onboarding someone into your company and its culture. No matter how much experience someone might have, this person has never worked for your company before, and you’re not setting him or her up for success unless you get them trained in your firm’s processes, lingo, SOPs and more.

2. If you feel uncomfortable, good -- that means you’re growing. There’s no shortage of challenges in the agency life, and along with challenges comes a certain level of uncomfortability as you venture into what feels like the unknown. While some people might crave habit and consistency, I’ve now realized that it is upon settling into endless routines where my first steps to dissatisfaction and unhappiness in the workplace begins. If you’ve mastered all challenges, then what’s will keep things interesting?

1. Never lose sight of compassion and humility in all that you do. Whether it is internal or external, creative or operational, personal or professional. Because, when combined, these two traits yield both power and grace.